Kiss Me Like You Mean It: A Novel

by J. R. Rogue

  Like it meant something with me? I wondered if they had skated in the dark like he and I had. In her picture, she looked tall, graceful. She probably knew how to ice skate. They probably held hands, glided across the ice like angels or some shit like that. No, Connor was no angel.

  I heard a voice to my right. "Don't," Lesley said.

  "What?" I blanched. I knew she knew. Those damn emotions and my damn traitor face.

  "Stop looking for him. You're here with Chad. Chad is good for you." My friendship with Lesley was on solid ground, at the moment. She had no clue I had slept with Avery. If she knew, she would be done with me. I no longer was stung by her friendship with Wendy. Maybe I was growing up, or something like it.

  "Well, maybe I'm not good for him." I didn’t know if I believed it or not. We had been having fun. He was so nice, no drama, and here I was, looking for some guy I hadn’t really dated in two years.

  "Are you kidding?"

  "I'm good for no one." How could she argue? In the past, she sabotaged half of my relationships. No, I sabotaged them, she ridiculed them. She liked Chad though. Hell, she probably wanted to fuck him. No, that was just me being cruel. She never gave off those vibes. Not with him.

  Did Connor know it was my birthday? He was ruining it. Taking my happy from me. He couldn't have known I would be here. I didn't choose this place. I wasn't asking for this trouble.

  Chad took me home that night. I let him into my trailer and into my bed. It didn't matter how many times we fucked, letting him into my home, it was more intimate. I had seen his shiny car, his tidy room. Now he could see my mess. Maybe he would stay around for it. Who knows. I wanted him to.

  Just before Chad fell asleep, he spoke into my hair from behind. “I really like you, Gwen.” It was a small thing but it made my heart hurt, because at that very moment, I was thinking of Connor, of ways to end this almost-relationship so I could be free to go to his house, to be at his mercy.

  I was weak and looked at Connor's Facebook the next day after Chad left. He wore that fake smile, the one he always used in photos.

  He could never smile for real. He reminded me of the episode of friends where Chandler couldn't smile for the camera.

  In my sadness, I told myself he was using a fake smile because he didn't like the girl he was with.

  I always hid from the truth.

  35

  Variety Pack

  “How long did you date Chad?”

  I think back, count on my fingers. “A few months maybe.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was such a nice guy. I loved staying with him. I loved sleeping with him. He took me on dates, told his friends about me. It was what I wanted, but it wasn’t with who I wanted it with. The shadow of Connor was still there. Eventually, I started answering Connor’s texts, but I would not meet him. I would not see him. When he found out about Chad, he respected it. At first.”

  “How did he stop respecting it?”

  “I didn't hear from Connor for three more weeks after the hockey game. I was having Valentine's Day dinner with Chad. My phone lit up and Connor asked me if I was busy. I knew what that meant. He wanted to fuck. I told him I was having Valentine's dinner with Chad and hid my phone. He responded that I should come over after I was done. The old me would have run over. Or lied. Said I was just in a movie with a friend. I always wanted him to think I was on the edge of my seat, waiting for him to ask me to come back to him, for real. But I was tired of that. I was tired of the way that made me feel. And then I learned from the guys he was seeing two girls. Not just the blonde, but a redhead, too. I would joke back with him, and say ‘You’re really trying to hit the whole variety pack, aren’t you? A redhead a blonde, and you want to add me, the brunette, back in, huh? Not happening.’ He would laugh it off, still pursue me. It was always this thing with us before we got together. Constant chasing and other people and never being happy with the stand-ins but pushing each other away when we were free to be together. I was just so tired of it.”

  “Why did things end with Chad?”

  “It was embarrassing, really. He asked me to be his girlfriend and I said yes. Then the nice guy turned into an ass and wouldn’t even accept my relationship status on Facebook. That’s a silly thing, right?”

  “A relationship is still a relationship without social media validating it, but it was important to you, right?” She always makes me answer my own questions, turns it back to me and my wants, what I think it’s supposed to mean.

  “Yes.”

  “Then it wasn’t a silly thing.” She taps her fingers on the bar. “Did you run back to Connor?”

  “No. He was hanging out with the redhead still. The blonde was long gone. I let him come to me. Let him back into my bed, until I couldn’t. He made me hate myself. He made me hate who I had become. Nothing was ever going to work out with anyone, as long as he was around. So one night I said I was done. I stopped answering his texts, and that lasted two weeks.”

  36

  The Heart Is A Beast

  I didn't like running away from places I found comfort in. I would often stand my ground, but gentle escapes were allowable. I didn’t go by the old watering hole often, but I was not hiding from it. I just needed a new place. A place where Connor and any other ex wouldn’t show up. When Joe called me up to tell me he was in town, I jumped at the opportunity to hang out with him. I hadn’t seen him since the first night I hung out with Connor. He was the guy I left with.

  Joe was soft-voiced and delicate, the most enthusiastic lover I had ever had. He was the second person I ever slept with, right after dumping my first boyfriend of four years, when I was twenty-two. We never dated, but our friendship was easy, and five years later, we still had fun in bed.

  He was the one I ran to after Avery dumped me. He was easy to run to because it never meant anything. It was blind touching, simple desire, easy to wash off. No guy I had ever been romantically linked to liked Joe. He was quiet, an observer, wealthy. He pulled jealousy from them easily. It was fun to hurt those who had hurt me with his want for me.

  For Joe, I was once a cheap thrill. We fucked in cars, in his lake condo, wherever we could. We said goodbye with no words. I needed a nothing relationship like that sometimes. To cleanse the palette.

  Joe ordered my drinks when we were out. I didn’t mind. He paid too, so how could I argue? It was a Thursday night when everything changed. When I would have to give all the tricks, all the games, up for good.

  Vodka made me pliable, loose, and sometimes fire, angry and coiled tight, ready to strike. I had downed three that night. Joe’s hand was on my leg under the table. It felt warm there, my eyes wrinkled with laughter. Joe’s friends did not run in my circle. I liked that about him, too. I had known him since I was fifteen, twelve years. He had an endless list of acquaintances. There was never a worry of anyone wondering who I was. I liked the anonymity.

  Joe didn’t show affection in public. I remember a time when I put my hand on his leg at the bar and he pulled it away. He screamed my name when we were alone, so vocal, so obedient. But in public, we were not to touch. I was a dirty secret, the dirty poor girl.

  My phone buzzed on the table just as I was reaching for Joe’s hand beneath the table. I pulled it up onto the table, flipped it over. My stomach fell, heat flushed my cheeks.

  Connor’s name lit up my screen. He was calling, not texting. That never happened, but I guess ignoring him had pulled it out of him.

  “Excuse me,” I said, dropping down from my chair, walking to the ladies’ restroom.

  “Hello,” I hissed into my phone, pushing the swinging door in front of me open.

  “Gwen?”

  “Yes. What’s up?” Why are you calling me? Why why why?

  “Where are you?”

  “What?” It was a lame reply, but why was he wondering where I was? We weren’t together. He had seen to that. He didn’t deserve to know where I was; I didn’t owe him an answer.

  “Wher
e are you?”

  “Why?” My voice was flat as I leaned against the tile of the women’s restroom wall.

  "Tell me where you are please. I want to come get you."

  "Come get me for what?"

  "You know."

  Really? He was on this again? I wanted more. An I’m ready to be with you. "Yeah. I do. I don’t need you for that. I’m busy tonight."

  "Busy with who? Rich?"

  “No.” My voice was firm. No room for questioning. I didn’t want to see Rich again, why was he so hung up on that one? I didn’t want to see any of them again. All of the men who had ripped me open. Joe was safe and easy. There was no chance I would fall for him. I was beneath him. He was just biding his time until he found a Barbie girl. And that's what he would eventually marry.

  That night I slept on Joe’s houseboat. When I woke up, my phone showed me several missed calls from Connor. It was unlike him to appear so desperate. My phone died before I could make a decision on how to respond.

  I drove home in a haze, muddled. I wanted to get home to charge my cell. I wanted to keep it off for days. I couldn’t keep up anymore. With the back and forth. The sex and the way I choked on my feelings. I never brought up the fact that I still loved him. I just wanted to be with him, any way that I could. But it was draining me, draining my affections for him. How many years could I carry on being nothing more than a fuck buddy to a man who adored me once? I didn’t mean to fall in love with him when it was already too late. I didn’t mean to be a mess when he met me.

  When I got home, I didn’t have to make the decision on when to talk to Connor. He was standing on my porch. I pulled in, next to his Range Rover, and turned my engine off. We locked eyes through the glass, and I wanted to cry a little. Instead, I stared at my hands that found their way back to the top of my steering wheel. My knuckles were white and my stomach was a mess.

  There are things you can’t explain in life. Connor was one of them. My feelings for him, I couldn’t paint a picture for anyone that would do my heart justice. I tried to love other men. I tried to move on. I convinced myself I did, a few times. My friends hated him at times. Hated me at times for my foolish desire to pin him down. The heart is a beast. A feral monster. And mine wanted this heart. Mine wanted Connor and no one else. And even as I knew that, I was always wondering why I was letting myself break all my rules.

  It’s a sad thing to desire being right more than you desire love that will not die. If this was it. If this was him wanting to be with me, would my heart change? Would my love fall away once it was returned?

  37

  Yet To Come

  "I knew it wasn't going to be easy to give up my freedom. I had been single for three years. I rocked back and forth on what I wanted. I wanted to take a shower with someone every night. I wanted someone to travel with. I wanted to stay out late with my friends and never have to text anyone. To never have to tell anyone where I was. There was still a thrill in the thought of having a one-night stand. The feeling of someone’s hands on me. Someone I barely knew and would never have to see again. I liked that kind of power. And maybe, deep down, I liked what Connor and I had. The sex was great, thrilling, and we would lose that when we both eventually loved each other at the same time. I don't know. I sometimes wonder if I even knew the girl I was back then."

  "But he was ready, right? To be with you when he showed up on your porch?"

  "I think he thought he was."

  "And you?”

  “I was in it more than him.” I laugh. “But the worst was yet to come."

  38

  Love Me Less

  I walked up to my steps, fumbling with my keys, past Connor. He watched me open my door and stood outside as I walked past my couch. When I didn't hear him behind me I turned. “Come in.”

  “I didn't want to assume.”

  “Whatever.” I waved my fingers in the air and threw my purse on my recliner. It was more of a catch-all than anything else. I didn't have much furniture, just leftovers that didn't belong to me.

  I walked to the fridge for a bottle of water, my ears perked, mapping Connor’s movements in my trailer. He was walking into the kitchen too, so I grabbed another bottle. I tossed it to him, wondered if the tension in the air slowed it down. I could still feel Joe’s body on mine, his scent.

  “Why are you here?” I asked after swallowing a mouthful of water.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “It’s a little early in the day for you to want to see me. It’s normally after nine, at the earliest, that you find your way into my life.” I waited for him to ask me where I was the night before. I knew it was bubbling under the surface. I wanted him to ask, so I could tell him it wasn’t any of his business.

  He never asked. Instead, he stunned me.

  “I think we should be together.” He set his water bottle on the table next to him, crossed his arms.

  It wasn’t romantic, it felt like he was closing a deal. My heart thundered in my ears.

  “We’re together right now.” I gestured between us with my arm. This wasn’t how I expected this to go down. Mostly I convinced myself the day would never arrive, but on the few days or few moments I let myself believe Connor would one day want to be exclusive with me, it wasn’t like this. It was softer, less like an aggressive job interview.

  “You know what I mean.” He scrunched up his face, creating ugly lines.

  “No.” I put the cap back on my water bottle. “I guess I don’t know what you mean.” I wanted him to do better. To say something nice. I knew I would say yes, I knew I would be his, as sad as that sounded, but I needed more.

  “I think we should be a couple.”

  “What’s wrong with what we’ve been doing?”

  “You want to keep doing that?”

  “No, and we both know that. But I want to know why you want this.”

  “I don’t want you to be with anyone else but me. I don’t want to keep seeing you just at night.”

  “That’s been your choice. Not mine. I tried. For years. I’ve been hanging on to you for years. You know that, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Last September, we were sleeping together. And Blane told me he texted you and told you happy birthday. Do you remember what your response was?”

  “No.”

  “You said ‘Thanks, but I wish I had someone to spend it with’.” I was going to cry, I could feel it bubbling up. My throat was on fire. “I wanted to be with you. I was in love with you, and you knew it. And you wanted him to feel sorry for you. Like you were alone. Like you didn’t have me desperately wanting you, waiting for you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” His hands were on his hips, he stared at the ceiling.

  “And then I end up in the hospital. Because of you. Because finally having sex with you hit me even harder. I wasn’t just broken emotionally, but physically. And I had to beg you to come see me.” The tears started to fall. My grip on the water bottle threatened to pop it.

  “I know. And I’m so sorry for that, too. I just hate hospitals.”

  “I don’t give a shit!” It was all tumbling out, the hate and the hurt, the clotting. “I do too, but I was in one, because of you. I couldn’t let anyone touch me for what felt like forever after that. And it wasn’t just because I was afraid that something like that would happen again, which yeah, that was a fear. But it was because I couldn’t stand to let myself care for anyone again. You fucked me up and I wish I could go back to the days when I hurt you. When it was just you, and not me.”

  “Then do it. Love me less. Let me pass you. Let’s try. Let me fall again and let it hurt me more. But just try.”

  “I hate you. I wanted this for so long. I bit my tongue and killed myself inside, just so I wouldn’t inconvenience you. So I could be the convenient fuck you would turn to. I just wanted you to spend time with me, and change your mind about me.”

  “It worked.”

  I wanted to fight with him more. I wanted to put up
more of a fight. But I didn't. I drank the rest of my water and I tossed the bottle at him. Then I walked to him and let him pull me in.

  When I pulled away, I walked to my shower, to wash off the scent of another man from my flesh, so I could start my new relationship with the one I actually wanted.

  Part III

  39

  August Was In My Heart

  “What was it like? Finally being together?”

  “I wrote it on the calendar, our anniversary. And we would celebrate that date in May for years, until I left him. But he wasn’t committed to me. I think he wanted to be. I think he feared I was on the edge of walking away. Maybe the thing with Chad pushed him to it. I had dated a nice guy and he figured, eventually, I would find one that would make me forget him.”

  “What do you mean when you say he wasn’t committed?”

  “I’m certain, that for a little while, he was seeing other girls. Hanging out with them. I was still timid, still trying to be what I thought he wanted. Some nights, he wouldn’t want to hang out. And I think he had someone over. I never said anything. I choked on it, again. I just handled it the only way I knew how to.”

  “How’s that?”

  “An eye for an eye. Joe finally found his way back to the family business. The business I was working at. We were working together, one-on-one, due to a promotion at work. We would travel out of state together. So I let myself fall back into his arms. No one was looking, Connor wasn’t jealous then. And I think it’s because he knew he was guilty, too.”